


All Bets Are Off

by literaryspell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-16
Updated: 2009-11-16
Packaged: 2017-10-23 04:35:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryspell/pseuds/literaryspell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is irresistible. Draco makes sure he knows it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Bets Are Off

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to [](http://keppiehed.livejournal.com/profile)[**keppiehed**](http://keppiehed.livejournal.com/)’s [A Costume Drama](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5482490/1/A_Costume_Drama). I begged and begged for more, but she was cruel and so I wrote this for closure. Please read her fic first, but for those who don’t, here’s the rundown: Harry loses to Draco in a bet and has to wear a kinky French maid’s outfit for the Hogwarts Halloween party. The costume, however, is a Portkey straight to Lucius Malfoy, who makes delicious use of poor Harry. This fic starts up after Harry returns to Hogwarts—still in costume, of course.

  


Harry stumbled for the third time on the way to the Great Hall. Hermione tried to steady him, but if it hadn’t been for Ron, they both would have gone down.

The four-inch heels that Draco had so thoughtfully supplied were making every step a more daring adventure than a Triwizard task.

“I can’t believe you’re wearing that, mate,” Ron said for the fourth time, shaking his head and very studiously looking forward.

“A bet is a bet,” Harry mumbled, scratching his thigh beneath the petticoat and, while he was under there, readjusting his package.

Even though he’d had a long— _long_ —shower, Harry swore he could still feel Lucius Malfoy’s come slicking his arse.

It was a night of firsts. Losing to Draco, that stung most of all. First time in girls’ clothing, first blowjob, first fuck, first time doing _anything_ with a man…

But if he had his way, the firsts wouldn’t stop there.

“If it helps,” Hermione said, “I think you look quite… pretty.”

“It definitely doesn’t,” Harry groused.

They paused before the massive doors, listening to the sounds of frivolity on the other side. Adjusting the maid’s costume, Harry prepared to say goodbye to life as he knew it. The cap was on straight and the mask in place. The bodice was snug. The skirt softly flaring atop white petticoats. His arse was surely showing, though Hermione denied it with a gleam in her eye. No matter—his white silk panties would maintain some modesty. The fishnet stockings were level, the garter straight and snug. The shoes were … pure, unadulterated evil.

He’d contemplated putting sneakers on, but he’d figured Draco wanted the whole picture. Well, Harry would show him the whole picture… and then some. Draco might have chosen the outfit with the intent to humiliate, but Harry had learned that Malfoys were susceptible to his charms.

Nodding at Ron, who was dressed as a Slytherin Chaser’s worst fear—himself (which was just an excuse not to wear a costume), and then at Hermione, who made a lovely Kneazle, Harry took a deep breath and opened the door.

Maybe it was just his imagination, but the entire hall seemed to fall silent as Harry stepped through the doors. The hall was dimly lit, with decorations in abundance. The head table now offered refreshments and all the house tables were gone.

Every single fifth-through-eighth year seemed to be there. Harry could only be grateful that the younger years weren’t there to witness his humiliation. Not that they wouldn’t hear about it, and in excruciating detail.

“Nice legs, Harry!” someone called out, breaking the silence. Laughter tore around the room, and Harry had to fight not to about-face and run back to his dormitory.

Ron led them into the room, immediately walking toward Seamus, Dean, and Neville, who were all staring with undisguised horror at Harry’s outfit. Harry and Hermione followed, though Harry wished more than anything that he didn’t have to.

“Aren’t you a pretty little thing?” Seamus said, leering. “You look awfully like our friend Harry, but he’d never be caught dead in a get-up like that.”

“Well, the Harry you know would never back down from a bet, either!” Ron immediately said, pulling himself up and glaring down at their friends.

And it seemed everyone immediately exhaled. “Oh, a _bet_!” Dean said, laughing. “Well, that’s different.”

Harry glared. “You think I would wear something like this for _fun_?” he spat.

Neville shook his head but Seamus shrugged. “Never know, mate.”

Harry spun on his heel, intending to storm away, but he only made it two feet before he slammed into a very solid body. “Fuck, sorry—” Harry broke off when he saw who it was. “Is it to your liking, Malfoy?”

Draco made a show of taking in every detail, from the little headpiece to the instruments of torture on his feet, eyes pausing meaningfully on Harry’s groin.

“Very much so,” he drawled, crossing his arms over his chest. “Is it to yours?”

Ignoring that, Harry said, “Well, you’ve seen me in it. I’m leaving now.” He walked forward, intending to slam into Draco with his shoulder as he passed, but Draco was too firmly planted, and Harry… not so much. He immediately carted to the side and would have hit the ground hard if Draco hadn’t grabbed him by the arm and hauled him back.

“Thanks,” Harry said automatically, steadying himself. Draco didn’t let go.

“So was it to my father’s liking?” Draco whispered, stepping closer.

Harry thought fast. “Is that why you sent me to your house?” Harry put his hands at Draco’s waist and leaned in as if to tell a secret. He knew they were being watched, but Draco’s robes and the dark hall made it impossible to see very much. “I thought you wanted to get me alone. I waited for you, you know.”

It was a gamble, he knew. There was no reason to believe Lucius wouldn’t brag about the pretty little boy he’d fucked over an ottoman like a common whore, but somehow, he knew it was the right decision.

He was validated when Draco’s eyes darkened, and his fingers clenched on Harry’s arms. “So you didn’t see my father? How did you get back?”

“No one was there,” Harry said. “And I just reversed the Portkey. A neat little trick I picked up while defeating Voldemort.”

Impossible, of course. But people tended to think Harry could do a lot of impossible things.

“You said you waited… what were you waiting for?”

Harry tried for a seductive laugh. He felt brave and bold in this costume; he especially liked that it almost evened his and Draco’s height. “Well, you put me in a maid’s uniform… I thought maybe you wanted me to…” Harry’s lips were right against Malfoy’s ear. “Service you.”

Draco took a step back, eyes wide. His lips were parted and his cheeks red, but his demeanour revealed nothing.

“And then,” Harry continued, “you didn’t show, and I thought maybe you didn’t want me. Or didn’t know what to do with me.” Harry shrugged in feigned indifference. “No matter, someone else will.”

This time he did walk past Draco, feeling his eyes on him the entire time.

Taking a gamble on a rumour, Harry approached Justin Finch-Fletchley, who licked his lips at the sight of Harry.

“Want to dance?” Harry asked, trying to look as if he didn’t care either way.

Justin nodded mutely, and Harry took his hand and led him to the part of the hall designated for dancing. There were quite a few groups and couples crowding the floor, but Harry stopped at the edge where Draco could be sure to see.

Maybe he could pass off what he was about to do as part of the bet. If not, it would be one hell of a coming-out.

But he couldn’t use Justin like that.

“I’m into Malfoy,” Harry said simply, reaching up and putting his arms around Justin’s neck. Justin automatically placed his hands on Harry’s waist and pulled him in. The song was a slow one, which Harry was grateful for, because there was no way he’d be able to do anything other than a slow-step in these shoes.

“Draco Malfoy?”

Harry almost said _who else_ , but then remembered how stupid that would be, considering what he’d done earlier in the day.

“Yeah. He’s a git, but…” Harry shrugged. Draco was _his_ git.

“Okay…”

“So I’m trying to make him jealous,” Harry said, feeling it should be obvious.

“Oh!”

“Er, are you okay with that?” Harry chewed on his lower lip nervously.

“Definitely,” Justin said, grinning widely. “I’d do it just to piss off Malfoy, but with you as an added bonus… I mean, you look amazing, Harry.”

“You cannot honestly think that,” Harry protested, letting Justin pull him in so their bodies were touching. “I look like a prat.”

But Justin shook his head. “No, you look fucking sexy as hell. I’ve never been jealous of Malfoy until now.”

Blushing, Harry turned away, but Justin tilted his face up with light fingers. “He’s watching,” Justin whispered. “Want me to kiss you?”

Harry nodded dumbly, and Justin leaned in. His lips were soft and steady. It felt nice, but there was something definitely missing.

A second later, a grip on his arm tore him away from Justin’s embrace. Justin grinned and nodded at Harry, who smiled back before whipping around to face Draco.

“What the fuck?”

“Don’t you _what the fuck_ me. What are you doing? You’re not gay!” Draco said in a harsh whisper.

“You don’t know the first thing about me, Malfoy,” Harry said, making it sound more seductive than berating.

Draco narrowed his eyes. He turned to walk away, maintaining his grip on Harry’s arm. Harry had no choice but to stumble after him. He tripped up a little, but Draco just continued to drag him.

After the third stumble, Draco whirled around, forcing Harry to halt mid-step. Harry was shocked speechless when Draco knelt down and put a hand on Harry’s calf. Draco lifted his leg and tore off the shoe, tossing it across the floor. He repeated the treatment with the other shoe and then stood.

“Coming?” he demanded, glaring at Harry.

He didn’t look happy, but Harry didn’t feel like he was in any real danger. He nodded. Draco stalked out of the hall, and Harry waved off Hermione who had run up to make sure he was all right. She knew about his little crush, and while she might not have liked it, she stopped and let him pass.

In stocking feet, Harry followed Draco as the blond walked with purpose down the hall. He turned abruptly into a classroom, leaving Harry in the hallway wondering whether running back to his room was the better idea. It almost certainly was.

He followed Draco.

Before he even passed the threshold, Draco grabbed him and pulled him inside, warding the door and then pressing Harry against the wall. He tugged Harry’s mask off and threw it behind him.

“Pretty brave,” Draco said, running his hand down the front of Harry’s outfit. He bit his lip before raising silver eyes to Harry’s.

Harry shrugged. More like stupid.

Draco pressed an almost tentative kiss on Harry’s neck. “Want to know what I thought when I cast the _Incarcerous_ that won me the bet?”

“What?” Harry whispered.

“‘I finally won.’”

Harry sighed and let his head drop back against the wall. Of course he knew that Draco didn’t actually _care_ about him, but it still hurt to hear this entire thing was about winning.

“Want to know my second thought?”

Harry nodded.

“‘He’s _mine.’_ ”

Then Draco’s mouth slammed onto Harry’s, and the first thing Harry realised was that Justin might have been a good kisser, but Draco kissed with his entire being. Hands buried in Harry’s hair, eyes clenched closed, body pressed against Harry’s… lips burning and demanding. Harry couldn’t do anything but _be_ kissed, and it was brilliant.

When Draco pulled back, they were both panting. “Damn,” said Draco, lips swollen. “I’m disappointed that it took seeing you in this outfit to make me realise how fucking hot you are.”

Harry blushed. He wasn’t used to hearing such things, especially not from men. “I’ve known for about a year,” he admitted.

Draco frowned. “How hot you are?”

“No!” Harry pushed at Draco’s chest, but he didn’t budge. “That _I_ thought _you_ were hot.”

“Oh, really?” Draco drawled. He trailed a line of kisses from Harry’s neck, over his jaw, to the corner of his mouth. “Why didn’t you inform me?”

“I wasn’t used to just _informing_ people of their attractiveness. Plus I was sure you’d hex me.”

“I _did_ hex you.”

“Yeah, but only because that’s what we _do_.”

“Not anymore,” Draco said firmly. He kissed Harry, hard. “All right?”

“What do we do now, then?” he asked in a quiet voice.

“Start over.”

Harry pulled Draco in for a kiss. His fingers tangled in Draco’s fine hair, and then smoothed over the front of his robes. “Hey,” he said a moment later. “Where’s your costume?”

Draco shook his head. “I’ve had a lifetime of wearing masks.”

When Draco kissed him again, it was softer than before, searching. His fingertips traced up Harry’s thigh until he met the hem of his panties.

“I didn’t think you’d wear these,” Draco said, slipping his fingers beneath and just barely stroking the outline of Harry’s cock.

“You told me to,” Harry said, gasping. In his eagerness, Harry lowered the knickers in question, but they stopped at his knees, not sliding down because of the fishnets.

Taking a half-step back, Draco stared. He pulled the knickers the rest of the way down and then touched the inside of Harry’s thigh, moving his hand up until it met Harry’s hard cock. “You just do whatever I tell you?” he asked quietly, watching Harry.

“Tell me and find out.” Harry widened his stance a little to give Draco more room. Draco’s hand was slow and unsatisfying, a teasing ring around Harry’s prick.

“Unbutton my robes.”

Smiling softly, Harry did as Draco asked. He didn’t mind playing games like this—he only hoped he convince Draco to return the favour another time. And there _would_ be another time, he vowed to himself.

“Push them off.”

Harry did, watching as they pooled on the floor behind Draco, who was left wearing nothing but snug black pants. Harry longed to run his hands over that pale, sculpted body, but he awaited his next order.

“Take the dress off,” Draco said hoarsely.

Harry turned and presented his back, and Draco lowered the zipper slowly, taking time to caress the revealed skin as he did. Still turned away, Harry slipped off the dress and was left in stockings, panties, a garter belt, and a little cap.

“Turn around.” Harry did, brushing against Draco’s straining cock. “Touch me.”

Harry grinned and let his fingers fall on Draco’s shoulders, though he knew that wasn’t exactly what Draco had had in mind. Draco growled, but Harry didn’t care. He caressed the lengths of his arms, tickled his fingertips, came across his chest, bypassing his nipples.

“Harry,” Draco said in a strained voice. He kissed Harry’s neck and throat, placing small bites that made Harry arch forward.

Finally Harry cupped Draco’s cock through his pants, and they both groaned. With fingers that trembled only slightly, Harry lowered Draco’s pants. Draco immediately pressed forward, bringing their cocks together.

“Lift your leg and put it around my hip,” Draco softly directed. He helped Harry, situating him so his leg was high, all his weight on his other foot. Draco slid a hand between Harry’s legs, rolling his balls softly before searching farther back. Harry gasped when Draco’s finger brushed his hole. He prayed it wasn’t wet with Lucius’ come.

But Draco whispered what Harry recognised to be a lubrication spell and then slipped a finger inside. Draco kissed him as he fingered him, two more fingers quickly joining the first. When Draco touched that place inside him that Lucius had only inadvertently brushed, Harry cried out, unable to look away from Draco’s intense gaze. His cock throbbed and leaked as Draco continued to rub and press his sweet spot.

“I love the way you look right now,” Draco whispered, fingers thrusting in hard. “So fucking gorgeous, so slutty.”

Harry almost protested the second part, but Draco continued. “But you’re not, are you? Practically untouched, but still you squirm and fuck yourself on my hand. You want me, don’t you, Harry?”

“Yes,” Harry hissed. His leg was shuddering with the effort of bearing his weight, and Draco removed his fingers and lowered Harry’s leg.

“Will you turn around for me?” Draco asked. Harry immediately recognised that it was different than before; he wasn’t giving an order.

Harry moved to face the wall, bracing himself with his hands and pushing his arse out. He was nervous—Lucius had really hurt him.

But Draco was kissing his shoulders and palming his arse, and there was nothing but arousal in that moment. He wanted Draco inside him, wanted to feel full, taken.

He tensed slightly when he felt Draco’s cock at his hole, but he forced himself to loosen up. Draco reached around and began stroking his cock, making Harry forget all about the pain of his first time. Then Draco was pushing inside, and it was _nothing_ like before. The fingering meant there was none of that initial tearing feeling. He felt only pressure and a strange fullness, but it was brilliant and not painful at all.

When Draco started to thrust, Harry met the movements, pressing against Draco’s body and rolling his hips. Draco made the sweetest grunting noises, and Harry decided he loved hearing him lose control.

“Harder,” he heard himself saying. He’d mostly meant the hand on his cock, but when Draco began really pounding into him, Harry knew nothing could ever feel so good.

“You’re unbelievable,” Draco moaned, his hand stroking and twisting over the head of Harry’s cock.

Harry couldn’t speak, only absorb the sensation and the thrusts. When Draco’s cock skidded over his prostate three times in a row, Harry came with a sharp, surprised cry, ropes of come painting the wall in front of him.

Draco gave an animalistic shout, his fingers clamping down on Harry’s hips, sure to leave bruises. Harry swore he could feel Draco flooding him from within.

After catching his breath, Draco pulled away, turning Harry and pulling him into a tight embrace. Surprised, Harry went along with the move, hugging Draco back and hoping that was the right thing to do.

“You were brilliant,” Harry said, for some reason thinking Draco needed reassurance.

Draco laughed. “You were… surprising.” He kissed Harry softly, but then the kiss grew ferocious until Harry was pressed into the wall, submitting to Draco’s lips entirely.

“I’d love to do this again sometime,” Harry said, hating the way his voice sounded so shy and hopeful.

“Count on it.” Then Draco suddenly glared at Harry. “But you better not let Finch-Fletchley touch you again.”

“As long as you keep touching me, no one else does,” Harry promised. “But the same goes for you.”

Draco smiled almost affectionately. “Of course.”

They grinned at each other. A moment later, Harry said, “We should probably…”

“Yeah.” Draco let Harry go and picked up the white silk panties. “Turn around.”

Thinking Draco was going to dress him, Harry faced the wall again. Instead, he felt the silk part his cheeks and rub over his hole. Draco was _cleaning_ him. Harry flushed in embarrassment and tried to turn, but Draco held him still.

“Let me take care of you,” whispered Draco. When he was finished, he turned Harry, who saw him put the soiled knickers in his robes pocket before slipping them on.

“Button them,” Draco demanded, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

Laughing, Harry did. Draco was such a prat sometimes.

“Dress me,” Harry said, crossing his arms over his chest, ignoring how ridiculous he looked in a garter belt, stockings, and a maid’s cap.

Draco took to the task solemnly. Harry noticed he didn’t zip the dress up all the way—maybe he was afraid the Portkey would activate again.

“Are you going back to the party?” Harry asked, straightening his dress.

“No. Nothing could improve on this night,” he said seriously.

Harry nodded. He was exhausted. “Want to walk me back to the Tower?”

“Is my little Harry afraid to walk the hallways of the castle alone?” Draco teased, nipping at Harry’s pouting lip.

“Just thought you might want to kiss me goodnight, that’s all.” Harry shrugged as if he didn’t care.

Draco looked considering. “Bit more than a kiss, and you’ve got a deal.”

“A snog, then.”

Draco took his hand and threaded their fingers together. He seemed surprised by his own action, and they both stared at their joined hands.

Then Draco shrugged and tugged Harry along, back to the Tower, where a snog turned into a grope, and would have been more if they hadn’t heard the party dying down.

“I know a great place for costumes,” Draco said casually as he turned to walk away.

“I better not be the only one wearing them,” Harry retorted, mind filled with the types of things he’d love to see Draco wear.

“You might be able to convince me.” Draco came back for another kiss, which Harry eagerly gave.

“Or maybe we’ll make a bet.”

 _The end._  



End file.
